


One At A Time

by Rune (Syllfael)



Category: Magic: The Gathering (Card Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Other, Reader-Insert, gender neutral reader, x Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25102024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syllfael/pseuds/Rune
Summary: Collection of gender-neutral reader-insert ficlets featuring various MTG characters. Currently mostly fluff.
Relationships: Chandra Nalaar/Reader, Dack Fayden/Reader, Gideon Jura/Reader, Jace Beleren/Reader, Lazav/reader, Liliana Vess/Reader, Nissa Revane/Reader, Ob Nixilis/Reader, Sarkhan Vol/Reader, Vannifar/reader, Vraska/reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	1. Consorting (Ob Nixilis)

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on Tumblr at I-only-roll-crits. Ficlets are expected to update every other day but I'm still getting into the swing of things. As of right now I'm willing to try my hand at requests (submit on Tumblr).

The angry villagers follow you all the way home this time; you almost drop some of your groceries in your haste to yank the door open and then slam it behind you. Probably unnecessary - you doubt there's anything they could actually do to you - but they were being awfully bold, coming right up to the house, considering what lived there with you.

"Are those lunatics chasing you again?"

Speak of the devil. You latch the door securely and turn to face him.

"You'd be much less amused about it if they'd made me drop the honey you asked for," you shoot back. His nonchalance could be infuriating. He chuckles, rising from his place at the table, wings flexing. A few loud bangs sound from the door.

"Heretic! You'll be punished for consorting with demons!" The mob calls. Ob Nixilis snorts.

"Consorting? I'd say that's putting it mildly," he smirks.You throw a stick of cinnamon at him, but he dodges. For now, you just continue unpacking groceries. Maybe you'll try again later when he's not expecting it.

"You wanna maybe handle that? You usually don't miss a chance to frighten people," you chide, pointing a wooden spoon at him.

"You want to come along and make a spectacle of it?" His voice teases while his expression insinuates. You throw the spoon, which smacks him lightly in the chest and bounces off to the floor.

"No," you start, trying not to grin too wide, "I'd rather not invite the entirety of Innistrad to reduce our home to kindling."

"They could try," he growls lightly, amused at the thought, before he hooks a claw under the hem of your shirt and pulls you in, presumably for a kiss. You just raise your eyebrows and stare him down. He sighs and releases you. "Fine, I'll deal with the rabble. Don't say I never did anything for you."

As he heads out the door, the screaming starts. You just shake your head - they should have known better than to follow you home.


	2. Lucky (Lazav)

Some days, you just get lucky. 

You're walking the streets of Ravnica, doing some Guild shopping. It's not particularly exciting; in fact, you usually dislike shopping days, but it's nice to have a day where you don't have to sneak around and avoid being seen.

The market is laid out in a large hub-and-spoke design where each guild has a line for their own stalls. You'll have to stop at nearly all of them today.

You start with Selesnya. Their stalls are living plants - saplings and vines twisting around one another in whatever shape is needed. It's pretty, and smells _wonderful_ ; clean, flowery, and _alive_. You move from one stall to another, checking things off your list. On your way out, the flower vendor - a pretty elf with a long braid - stops you.

"How about a flower for the hard worker? It's not quite as lovely as you, but it'll look nice in your hair," she says, gently weaving it into your locks after you smile and accept. You try to pay her, but she waves it away.

As you continue through each area, things continue in the same vein - a Golgari merchant offers you a few truffle treats, an Izzet metalworker gifts you a small animal figure, a Simic refreshment stand fills a bottle of flavored water for you... it keeps going, and at the end of the day, after dropping off all the shopping at HQ, you make it home with a decent amount of swag and a really great mood. 

At first, you think the house is empty, but then Lazav materializes silently in the kitchen doorway. You would have been startled if you weren't used to it.

"Hey," you greet him, grinning, "what do you want to make for dinner?"

He just shrugs as an answer. You're used to that too. He enters the room and leans back against a counter, crossing his arms.

"Looks like you had a good day. Shopping went well?"

You launch into a retelling of your day as you gather ingredients for dinner, beaming with excitement, showing off your various treasures. Lazav just listens with a gently amused expression.

"It's too bad you skipped Rakdos, I bet they would've had something nice for you as well."

"They didn't have anything I needed and their stalls always freak me out, so - hey. Wait," your hands stop moving and you narrow your eyes suspiciously. "I didn't tell you I skipped Rakdos."

"Sure you did," he responds lightly, shrugging. You put down the bowl you were holding and move to stand directly in front of him, squaring up. 

" _Lazav_ ,"

He smiles at your intimidation attempt, and then suddenly he shimmers and the Selesnyan elf from earlier is standing before you. Your jaw drops and you shove him gently. 

"It was you, all day?? How did you not have anything better to do - who was running the guild?!"

He laughs aloud at that and changes back to himself (or, at least, the form you _think_ is himself). He produces a little stuffed demon from his pocket, presumably the trinket you would have received from the Rakdos. You take it, but immediately place it on the counter so you can throw your arms around Lazav. He squeezes you hard enough to push all the air out of your lungs.

"You don't like doing the shopping. I just wanted to make it fun for you," he mutters into your neck. You pull back a bit, smiling, to press your forehead to his.

Some days, you just get lucky. Other days, there's Lazav.


	3. Perfection (Vannifar)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was written for a-restriction-enzyme on Tumblr.

You're nervous, and your work is suffering because of it. Your hands are unsteady - you've already dropped three different items, though luckily nothing breakable... yet. You eye the very, very large quantity of glass on the workbench fearfully. Dropping a flask or vial could be _catastrophic_ depending on the contents. You decide to entirely avoid picking one of those up, if possible. Your gaze is furtive, glancing frequently from your work to the side of the room - WAIT, _didthatsay8gramsor8milligrams_??? You turn your eyes back to the page in a panic, and - thank goodness, you added the correct amount.

That was too close, you need to breathe. You stand still and try to center yourself. It's just so difficult to concentrate when - 

"Is everything alright over here? You seem to be struggling."

The Prime Speaker's voice is cool and even, not unkind, and your soul tries to flee your body _immediately_.

"Oh - I'm - uh," you stammer, turning your gaze to hers and _surely_ going completely red. 

Vannifar: Intelligent. Beautiful. _Perfect_. And here, today, observing _your team_ 's project. You didn't think you'd survive the encounter in the first place, and you hadn't even expected to actually _speak_ to her.

Not that you even _were._ Speaking, that is. Admiration had tied your tongue into a sturdy knot, but you couldn't just stutter at her; what would she think??

"I promise I'm not stupid, just panicking," you blurt, then freeze. First, her eyebrows lift in surprise, and then she laughs. The sound has such clarity and depth, like a bell. You feel like you're melting.

"Of course you're not stupid. I hand-picked every member of this team for this project; surely you don't think I would have chosen a stupid person?"

She was still smiling _,_ apparently quite amused. It's all the encouragement you need.

"No, I suppose not, um, and thank you for this opportunity, of course," you know you're rambling but now that the floodgates have opened you're not sure how to close them again, "we won't let you down, and please let me know if there's anything I can change..."

You trail off as her smile widens and her eyes fill with warmth. 

"About you? I wouldn't change a thing. You're perfection."


	4. Worry (Ob Nixilis & Dack, polyam)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like Ob Nixilis, if you can't tell. Also this ship might be highly unusual but I love it so incredibly much.

When Ob Nixilis arrives home, the house is quiet, and he's suspicious instantly. Usually, one or both of you yell out a greeting when he opens the door - either that, or you don't even hear him over all the ruckus _you're_ making, cooking or playing a game or whatever other nonsense you'd gotten up to that day (once, he'd come home to a living room full of chickens - he didn't ask, just walked right back out). The house would have stayed plenty lively with just one of you in it; both of you were often enough to give him a headache.

Today, though - silence. He began searching rooms with more urgency than he'd be willing to admit. Worry was an unusual feeling for him, but he'd been getting acquainted lately. He just wasn't used to _caring_ enough to worry. If something had happened while he was out - 

He flings the bedroom door open, and a sigh of relief follows soon after. 

You glace up quickly in surprise, then raise a finger to your lips in a shushing motion.

"Don't wake him up. He had a rough day," you whisper, barely disturbing the still air in the room.

You're sitting up against the headboard, both arms wrapped around Dack's torso, head resting on his shoulder, as he reclines with his back against you. He's snoring a bit. It's a quiet, pretty, _domestic_ scene, and it plucks at a few strings in Ob Nixilis' chest that he hadn't thought were there. The tension in his frame drains away.

"Is that so. And which guild is after him this time?" 

He preferred not to start trouble with the guilds while he was on Ravnica. It was usually more trouble than it was worth, but - his gaze flickers to the sleeping thief - maybe not, in this case.

"Not that bad," you laugh quietly, partly due to the transparency of the question, "just a little issue with the Boros. I stepped in."

"Oh? At the expense of how many city blocks?" He teases, and you stick your tongue out at him. The deep rumble of his voice isn't quiet enough; Dack stirs slightly, muttering. You run one hand soothingly through his hair and use the other to shoo Ob Nixilis from the room. He smirks into your stern expression, but goes anyway. 

Dack drifts back off, and you're left to your own thoughts. Troublesome or not, it would've been exciting to watch Ob Nixilis take on the entire Boros Legion. You smile into Dack's shoulder. Maybe next time.


	5. Interruptions (Vraska)

Spending time with Vraska was more fun on Ixalan; she had less free time on Ravnica due to guild business. Today, however, she had taken the afternoon off to run around the city with you, and you had to admit the window shopping here was magnificent.

You're leading her from one shop to another, fingers entwined, pointing out various trinkets or clothing. She's attentive but fairly subdued - upon noticing this, you pull her down an alley, into the shade, and lean back against a cool brick wall.

"You're tired, aren't you? That's why I said we didn't need to go out today," you remind gently, keeping hold of her hand. She sighs.

"I know, but you've been all cooped up lately - in the Undercity, no less. I hate to leave you in the dark all the time when you're used to being on the deck of a ship."

"I can go places alone, you know," you laugh, "I don't just sit around in the Undercity waiting for you. Not that I don't pine for you constantly, of course -" Vraska rolls her eyes, smiling - "but I spend enough time up here; I don't want to drag you around if you're dead on your feet."

"Tell you what -" she starts, before a small cluster of people turn into the alleyway, chattering. They stop suddenly when they see her.

"Oh, uh - sorry to interrupt," the leader stutters, nearly stumbling over his own feet and the rest of his group while trying to get out of the alley as quickly as possible. Once they're gone, Vraska returns her attention to you, looking annoyed.

"What did they think they were interrupting? We're just standing here," she grumbles. You waggle your eyebrows suggestively at her.

"Let’s do something _else_ , then," you entice, singsong, and tug on her hand a bit. She smiles and allows you to pull her in until she's close enough for you to wrap your other arm around her waist.

"I thought you had a list of places you wanted to visit today?" She laughs, voice soft. Her mouth is so close to yours that you can feel her smile.

"This is better," you mutter, closing the last tiny bit of distance.

You hold her against you, stealing as much of her breath as you can get - she pins you gently back against the wall, and you couldn't get away even if you wanted to - which you absolutely do _not_.

A couple minutes later (too soon for your liking), she pulls back and tugs you forward, away from the wall.

"As much as I enjoy making out with you in dark alleys, I think your ice cream shop is closing soon," she says, a little breathlessly. You gasp.

"Nooo! I need my fix, let's go," you say, springing forward and pulling Vraska behind you at a quick pace. You look back to smile slyly at her. "That was fun. I'm glad we avoided any further interruptions."

At the reminder, Vraska frowns.

"You know, I bet those people were just frightened to see a gorgon. They probably thought I was trying to abduct you or something."

"So, would you say they were... _petrified_?"

She lets out an exasperated sigh, drops your hand, and stalks away as you continue to cackle uncontrollably.

"Aw, honey, wait! Ha ha...Oh man, I can't breathe..."


	6. Impatience (Gideon, college AU)

Gideon Jura was the king of campus, and no one would attempt to argue otherwise. He was (somehow) involved in practically every club or sport that the school offered, managed to get good grades despite that, and never even seemed tired or grumpy. _Everyone_ loved him...

Except for _you_.

That being said, you didn't even dislike him for any substantial reason. It was just the simple fact that he was _everywhere_ , at all times, and always in your way. Basketball game? Yep, there he is - almost mowing you down chasing after the ball. Dorm game night? You don't even need to look for him; you can hear his hearty laugh from across the room. _Every class you've ever attended??_ Oh look, he's sitting directly in front of you, taking up all the space and hiding the whiteboard from your view. You didn't need that information anyway, right?

The number of times he's almost knocked you over, or _had_ knocked your things to the floor, or blocked your line of sight, was astronomical. You weren't oblivious; you knew he was actually a really cool guy - well-rounded, friendly, responsible... maddeningly _perfect_. 

You scowl as you think it, arms crossed, watching the half of the slideshow Gideon wasn't currently blocking with his annoyingly broad shoulders. If only he didn't seem to exist just to irritate you!

You manage to make it through class without grinding your teeth too much, and allow the other students to filter out while you slowly pack up your things, since crowding around the door isn't your thing. As you leave, someone still manages to bump you, and you drop your bag. Cursing, you kneel to grab your notebooks, only to realize, with no surprise, who knocked them out of your hands.

"I'm so sorry," Gideon says, contrite, joining you on the ground and also reaching for your scattered materials. He somehow manages to only try for the things you're already in the process of grabbing, which leads to a lot of fumbling and awkward tug-of-wars. It's worse than unhelpful. He apologizes every time. 

"Don't worry about it," you sigh, resigned, waving away his attempts at assistance, "It's just a couple things, I can handle it." 

As you finish the sentence, you slide the last of your things into your book bag and stand up. He follows, still looking sheepish.

"Wow, I sure do this to you a lot, don't I?"

He won't meet your eyes, and he looks a little red in the face. It's just as well he's not looking as your expression becomes a mask of surprise.

You didn't think he paid attention to you, or even really noticed the other times he'd made your life difficult. The fact that he was aware he'd been a burden to you... softened it somewhat? Also, you've never seen him look this _awkward_ before. He's always been calm and smooth and maybe even a little charming. 

"Oh. I mean, yeah, you kind of bump into me a lot or whatever..." you begin, not sure where you're going with this sentence, but luckily for you he interrupts.

"I'm really sorry. I get clumsy when I'm nervous, and... uh," he finally glances up at you, just a flash, but he looks like he's working his way up to something. Your heart is pounding. "Well. I'm here now because I was waiting for you to come out, I wanted to talk to you... this isn't the first time I've tried, but as you know, it never seems to go well," he laughs a little in a self-deprecating way. He's still only looking at you in glances, choosing to mostly let his eyes wander the immediate area, which is fine with you since you're pretty sure you're turning as red as he is. If he starts stuttering, you're pretty sure it'll kill you. Your heart is still doing a good imitation of a bongo drum and you have the wild urge to flee -

"Spit it out. Please," you add, attempting to soften the bite of your impatience. You're not mad - it's just that you don't think you can survive this tension for much longer. His eyebrows shoot upward and his eyes lock onto your face for the first time, probably checking to see if you're angry with him. Whatever he sees must not be as bad as he imagined, because he continues, albeit at a faster pace.

"Oh - I just - wanted to ask, _been_ wanting to ask, if maybe you'd, uh," he sputters, falters, and you're done for. Without thinking, you grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him into a deep kiss. He melts immediately, and all of your worry that you'd misread his intentions dissolves in his mouth. A moment later, you push him away from you as quickly as you'd pulled him in, hand still clenched in his shirt. He looks like he's reeling.

"Yes, absolutely," you answer firmly, and then go instantly breathless when he _grins_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, these just keep getting longer, huh?


	7. Caffeine (Jace, college AU)

You weren't sure how to feel about your newly-assigned project partner. You knew he was smart - he got the best grades in class - but he was kind of... weird. He wasn't great socially, and mostly seemed to live in his own head. He also seemed perpetually exhausted. You couldn't fathom what kind of sleep schedule he must keep, to come out of it with such dark circles under his eyes. The more you thought about it, the more you burned with curiosity. No one knew anything about him, like he was some kind of cryptid (though not as much as that girl who practically lives in the garden). Maybe this was your chance to discover a thing or two to bring back with you to the world of the living.

Jace was waiting at an otherwise unoccupied table in the library when you arrived, off in the corner. You might not have seen him, if not for that bright blue hoodie he always seemed to wear. He didn't notice you approach - he was hunched over the table with his nose in a book.

"Might be easier to read that if you actually pick it _up_."

You expected to startle him, but instead of jumping or making any sound, he just went very still.

"I didn't hear you come in," he muttered, sheepishly, slowly looking over at you. His gaze was focused resolutely on your left shoulder.

"I'm an assassin in my free time," you deadpan, rummaging through your bag. He watches stoically as you remove two energy drinks, setting one on the table in front of him. He eyes it suspiciously.

"...What's this for?"

"You look like a zombie and I want to get this thing done fast so I have more time for video games. Drink up," you say before taking a huge swing from your own can. He looks slowly from you to the drink in front of him, then reaches out for it, equally slowly, like he thinks it might be a trap. You wonder if he's used to being bullied. Come to think of it, you _have_ seen a few of the jocks hanging around him; Gideon was generally understood to be a good guy, but that Chandra girl looked like trouble... that might be worth investigating later. He's an oddball, for sure, but harmless and kind of endearing - you watch him open the energy drink with undue hesitation, take an experimental sip, and adopt a genuinely surprised expression.

"This is pretty good," he says before chugging half the can. You smile to yourself and open up your laptop.

An hour later, the drink is long since gone and you're concerned about him for entirely different reasons. The caffeine seemed to do the trick and _then_ some; he hadn't stopped talking for the past 15 minutes, jumping quickly from your project topic to how cheese is made to theoretical physics and back again, following every other rabbit trail that appeared in between and somehow managing to find time to breathe. You knew he was smart, but damn.

"Is caffeine new to you?" You laugh, interrupting his rant about the concept of linear time.

"Uhhh. No. I'd already had three coffees and two sodas before meeting you here," he answers, and you swear you can see him vibrating in his seat. You burst out laughing.

"Why didn't you say something? You're _buzzing_. You look so tired all the time, I just wanted to help, not overdose you."

"I _am_ tired all the time, but not from lack of caffeine. I just don't sleep much."

"And now you'll never sleep again," you tease, still laughing. Jace looks rueful.

"Yeah, this is going to be a rough crash. Normally I would've passed on the drink, but..." he glances away, "it was very nice of you to bring it for me. I appreciate it."

You stare, awestruck, or... struck by _something_ , anyway. Wow, this cryptid is _adorable_. You might need to keep him.

"Tell you what... I think we've done enough here today," you say, and Jace starts to protest because you've actually gotten almost _nothing_ done, "let's get you some food, my treat, and if you start crashing - I make a good pillow."

It was fairly bold, but you couldn't help it, and the risk was well worth the reaction it elicited: his entire face goes scarlet, and you think you hear him swallow hard. He nods, and now _you're_ the one buzzing - but not from the caffeine.


	8. Distraction (Chandra, college AU)

You were studying in the library, at your usual table. Focused as you were, you didn’t notice when the redhead entered, but before too long it became impossible to ignore her.

She was huffing, grumbling, shifting noisily. Study materials littered the table in front of her; it was the next one over from yours, and directly in your line of sight, but she was sitting at the nearest side, so you were slightly behind and to the right of her.

You try to ignore her at first, but each disruptive sound catches your attention and makes you glance up on reflex. You set your book down with a small sigh and just watch her over the rim of your coffee cup. You recognize her – she’s been in a few of your classes and she’s on a sports team, you think you recall. Her name is… Sandra. No, Chandra? Something like that.

She huffs again, and this time you catch her as she turns her head slightly and glances directly at you out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes widen and she quickly whips her head in the opposite direction when she sees you looking. You think you can see the tips of her ears reddening.

You chuckle quietly and continue watching the back of her head as she appears to struggle with some internal conflict. If she has something to say, she can come say it. You’re not taking her obvious bait.

She seems to come to a decision and jumps suddenly out of her chair, turning 180 degrees to face you with a determined, albeit slightly flushed, expression. She marches over, and opens her mouth to say something, but you beat her to it.

“Am I in trouble? _I’m_ not the one making way too much noise in a library,” you tease, straight-faced. It halts her for just a second, face frozen.

“No, I – wait, what?” Her eyebrows knit together in confusion before she abruptly shakes her head, “no, let me start over. Um. You’re first in our chemistry class!”

She announces it, definitely too loud, and it sounds like an accusation. You allow a small smile to break through your stoic façade.

“Yes. And how can I help you - Chandra, right?”

Her jaw drops a bit, seemingly taken aback that you know her name. She goes redder – you hadn’t thought that was possible.

“Right,” she squeaks, then clears her throat, “I’m, uh, having some trouble?”

You raise an eyebrow imperiously with a slight smile, choosing not to tease her about that statement-turned-question, but still not throwing her a life preserver. She takes a breath and forges ahead - her tenacity is charming.

“I was wondering, if you wouldn’t mind, could you give me a few pointers or maybe even help me study for the test next week…” she says in a rush, voice dwindling to just above a whisper as she goes. You decide you’ve teased her enough; you pull out the chair next to you and gesture.

She beams, and hurries to bring her things over. For the next couple hours, you walk her through a few concepts. You schedule another session on your way out, which she seems much more excited about than anyone should be about learning chemistry.

“We _could_ have started sooner, if you’d skipped all the distractions and just _asked_ me,” you chide, good-natured, with a smug look in her direction. She blushes anew and laughs.

“Yikes, I guess you saw right through me, huh? I was nervous, since you're so c- uh,” she falters, "smart!"

Your grin widens, but you decide not to push her about what she actually _meant_ to say just then.


	9. Sanctuary (Nissa, college AU)

You're leaving the library late, as usual. Campus is dark and hardly anyone is still out. Your path back to your dorm takes you past the community garden, which is actually huge thanks to the gardening club and mostly one student in particular. Sure enough, you can tell as you near it that someone is rummaging around in there, though the ring of bushes and shrubs around the outside blocks out most of the view. It's quiet enough that you think you can hear muttering.

You've got a couple packets of flower seeds in your bag (a gift from a new friend who saw the various flower pots in your room and sensibly assumed you grew things rather than just collected them like a crazy person), and you're not sure what compels you to do it, but you tiptoe over quietly and lay them out in front of the wall of tall shrubs, like an offering. Then you hurry home, eager to get some sleep before classes in the morning.

Early the next morning, you pass the garden again and notice the seeds you left are gone, which is great since you weren't going to get any use out of them yourself. Heading back out for lunch, you glance over again - she's _still in there_. Doesn't she have any classes to attend? You pause, deliberating. It's very hot outside today, and you have an extra (still sealed) water bottle. She probably doesn't need it, but you shrug and go over anyway, leaving the bottle in the same place you'd left the seeds. Then, on an impulse, you scribble a little note on a post-it and stick it to the bottle - just a hello and a smiley face.

For the next week, you continue leaving things, usually with little notes: snacks, more packets of seeds, and even a cute elephant-shaped watering can you found at a garage sale. It's turning into a weird tradition, but it's oddly satisfying - like putting food out for a feral cat.

Today, you swing by on your way home as usual, but when you stop to open up your backpack, the bushes suddenly part in front of you. You jump backward, startled, as a girl with a long braid leans out and stares at you.

"Are you the one leaving things here?" She asks, glancing shyly between your face and the ground, and even though she spoke at normal volume her voice sounds so _soft_.

"Uh. Yeah, sorry, is it bothering you?" You ask, reeling. _You're meeting the garden cryptid, holy shit -_

"Oh, no - the gardening club thanks you for your contributions," she starts, now looking determinedly away from you, "and thank you for the water and everything..."

"No problem. You always seem to be out here, even when it's boiling," you laugh, and she raises her eyes to yours, and _damn_ if that's not the most vibrant green you've ever witnessed. She smiles slightly.

"It's kind of my sanctuary... and I like to make sure the plants are healthy and growing. You'd be surprised how many pests will come cause problems if you're not vigilant."

"Oh, hey, speaking of that, I brought this for you," you laugh again, opening up your backpack, pulling out a flower pot - one of your collection that you figured you could part with, for a good cause - and presenting it to her. It's ladybug patterned. She raises her eyebrows in pleasant surprise and reaches out to take it from you, slowly and reverently. She stares at it for a moment.

"Just a minute," she says, whipping around and retreating back into the garden. You wait, more anxiously by the second, until she pops back through and holds the pot out to you. You take it, confused, before realizing it's heavier than it was a minute ago.

You look down and see it's full of dirt and little green sprouts.

"It's the Sweet William you left here a week ago," she smiles gently, clearly proud of her charges' growth in such a short time. You look at her, astonished, and blurt out your name, stringing together a not-entirely-smooth introduction. She returns to looking bashful, but smiles a little wider despite that.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Nissa."


	10. Squeamish (Liliana, college AU)

You've been dreading today's biology class all semester. Stopping outside the door, you take a deep breath and mutter to yourself for a minute before entering.

Unfortunately, you were already running late, and really shouldn't have wasted any additional time. The rest of the class turns to stare at you as you enter, which doesn't exactly improve your anxiety. They've already settled around their lab tables, their relevant materials in front of them, and they're all partnered up. You realize that means you're going to get stuck with the bottom of the barrel, and kick yourself for not getting out of bed sooner.

You fearfully locate the only remaining table with a seat open - and it's right next to _Liliana Vess_. You sigh quietly and head over, resigned. She looks up from her bored examination of her lab book as you slide into your seat and begin pulling things out of your bag.

"Damn, I was hoping I'd be able to work alone," she tsks, in her usual haughty tone. Your eyes start to roll before she even finishes speaking.

Liliana was a mean girl masquerading as a Victorian-era goth that apparently decided purple was the new black. She was gorgeous, self-assured (and self- _involved_ , self- _centered_ , really any word that means she thinks the world revolves around _her_ ), and savage. She had many admirers, but no friends. You aren't shocked no one has chosen to work with her. You've avoided her like the plague until now, because for one thing you didn't want the hassle, and for another you were worried you'd decimate each other if it came to blows.

"Oh, not getting your way for once?" you sneer, with a caustically faux-sympathetic tone and an expression more like bearing teeth than smiling. "That must be so difficult for you."

She stares you down levelly, the smallest hint of a frown converting her formerly stoic features and barely quirking one delicately sculpted eyebrow. So, she doesn't like being challenged... you weren't surprised.

" _Well_. You sure this is a fight you wanna pick? I think you're punching above your weight here," she said, tone still steady and unimpressed, but with a new layer of ice on top. You lock eyes with her, unflinching.

"You might want to withhold judgment of my punches until you've actually seen one," you fire back. Her eyebrows raise and she begins to lean toward you, like she's going to pounce.

Without your notice, the teacher has been moving through the room passing out materials. He's suddenly at yours, setting something down. You tense up instantly, eyes widening, even though they're still locked on Liliana's and you can't see the item in question. Animosity is no longer enough to distract you from your destiny, especially when the scent of chemicals and death wafts over you.

It's dissection day.

You turn your head slowly, in horror, to view the piglet cadaver, and then push your chair as far away from the table as it can go.

"Interesting. You snarled at me so ferociously a moment ago - who would have thought you could be so squeamish?" Liliana mocks, smiling sweetly, brandishing a scalpel. "Allow me, then," she says, and your stomach turns as she brings the knife down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original premise of this one was 'big sis Liliana kindly does all the dissection for squeamish reader,' but then it turned into this. Idk. Take it.


	11. Crumble (witch's familiar!Ob Nixilis)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a tiny bit spicy.

You're hovering over a simmering pot, adding occasional ingredients by intuition, when your familiar enters. He glances over your shoulder before scanning the countertops. 

"I see you're neglecting to follow instructions again," the demon drones. "You have a perfectly good recipe book on the shelf."

"It's a formulary, not a recipe book," you chide, rolling your eyes, "and I don't need it. I've made this a thousand times."

He makes a sound - somewhere between a growl and something more contemplative. It rumbles deep in his chest.

"You're courting disaster by refusing to be methodical, if you ask me, but suit yourself. What is it for?"

"The usual," you shrug. 

"Birth control."

"The other usual."

"Ah. Impotence," he amends, and you spare a glance over your shoulder to confirm the smirk you hear in his voice.

"No," you laugh, "those aren't the only things I do, you know."

Ob Nixilis rumbles again. He's close enough now that you can feel it as well as hear it. The heat from the stove was enough to deal with - he's like a furnace at your back.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to work."

"Oh, am I disturbing your focus?" 

The words are a low rasp, an inch away from your right ear; you can feel his breath on your neck. Two claws skim your hip lightly, barely there but with enough sharp _drag_ to register as a threat. You're trying to ignore him and keep working, but your brain has gone foggy and your hands can't seem to uncork the bottle of lavender. You set it back down with a huff. He always picks the _worst_ times to demand attention, as if annoying you is part of the fun. Maybe it was a test of your will or an expression of his controlling nature - either way, he enjoyed it too much. That being said...

You narrow your eyes at the brew, analyzing whether it could be left alone for a few minutes (and even as you think it you know better, it would be much longer than a few minutes and you would return to a spoiled, unsalvageable mess). 

While you weigh your options, Ob Nixilis doesn't push any further - he won't, he likes to watch you crumble with barely any effort on his part - but the claws and his breath and the heat of him are still present, quickly careening toward overwhelming, and you're _going_ to crumble, just like always -

Then he's gone, and you're turning your head in confusion, eyes hooded, as his voice raises to a normal volume. 

"In any case, you have a customer. Just informing you," he says, retreating back across the room, voice mischievous. 

You whip around completely, eyes wide. There's a woman standing in the doorway, red-faced, looking awkward. You both start apologizing to each other at the same time, in mutual embarrassment.

A deep laugh echoes back to the kitchen from the hallway. 

" _Nix!_ " You roar back in outrage. You're not sure how, but you're going to make him pay for this later.


	12. Silk (Sarkhan)

He was doing that thing again, where he sits cross-legged on the couch and fights sleep, with little success. His arms are crossed, head bowed, eyes closed - he would look peaceful if not for his frown and the way his eyebrows knitted slightly together. You suspect he's trying to meditate or something, but he's clearly struggling not to fall asleep. His head lowers a bit and his hair falls forward in a curtain, blocking your view. You have an idea.

"It's me," you say quietly as you approach from behind him; even mostly asleep his awareness of his surroundings is sharp, and you know better than to startle him. The dragon-god had left too many claw marks on the inside of his skull - gouges that would probably never completely heal, just weather and smooth over with time. 

He hated that you had to be careful with him. It was bad enough you had to deal with his nightmares; he wanted you to feel _safe_ , at least, and it's true he would never hurt you on purpose, but he knew he wasn't always... _himself_. 

So precautions were taken. You didn't mind, and you told him so, but he minded enough for the both of you.

Sarkhan didn't stir when you spoke, except maybe for an almost-imperceptible loosening of his shoulders. You bring a hand up on either side of him, slowly, and start running your fingers through his hair, pulling it back from his face and letting it fall again, repeatedly. He sighs deeply and relaxes even more. 

You keep going - fingers fluttering happily through silken strands, sweeping along his neck, scratching lightly across his scalp. If he was struggling to stay awake before, it's a hopeless battle now. His head drops a few times; you keep shifting an arm to brace him before he catches himself and straightens back up. Finally, he shakes his head violently to wake himself up a bit more.

You chuckle and start braiding. His hair is sleek enough to make it a challenge - the strands keep slipping through your grasp. When you finish, you pull a hair band off your wrist, loop it in, and rest your hands on his shoulders. He leans back against the couch and tilts his head up to look at you with soft, sleepy eyes.

"That was incredibly soothing," he mutters quietly, eyelids drifting closed.

"I thought so too. Nap time?" You ask hopefully, smiling. He reopens one eye, contemplating. He's not usually a nap person, but _sometimes_ \- 

He twists suddenly, reaching for you - you let out a little chirp of surprise as he pulls you over the back of the couch and down with him, squishing you between the cushions and himself. He wraps both arms around your waist and buries his head in your neck.

"Yes," he sighs, "nap time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May be the last one for a bit; I'm trying to get some work done on my actual manuscript and possibly start a multi-chapter fic. As always, feel free to come say hi on Tumblr, @ i-only-roll-crits.


	13. Demon, XL (Ob Nixilis) - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

You’re not sure where he’s been or what he’s been doing, but it must have involved the death of quite a few enemies, because he’s about twice his usual size when he comes home. You look him over, eyes slowly widening as they travel across his form.

You don’t find any wounds, which was your main reason for ogling him, at least initially - but then you’re caught in a rising heat as your gaze rakes over his broad torso, thick limbs, all the firm muscle laid bare by his general lack of clothing. Your attention is drawn to his hands as he flexes them - wide, strong, and tipped with sharp obsidian claws.

“… Are you listening?” He rumbles, all rough grit and deep octaves. You blink a few times, attempting to focus despite your racing pulse. He must’ve said something. Your eyes dart up to his face but then keep going, following the curves of his dangerous-looking crown of horns.

“Huh?” You respond, and he steps toward you, frowning, powerful tail sweeping behind him. The way he towers over you, now even more than usual, scatters what little concentration you’d been able to muster.

He grins suddenly, leans in closer - you can feel the heat coming off him, even with a couple feet between you.

“Oh? What’s that look for?” He teases, wings flexing, and then suddenly his hands are on you as he surges forward, rocketing you backwards until you hit the wall, hard enough to jolt some of the air from your lungs.

He’s got you pinned, one hand wrapped lightly around your throat as the other grabs you by one thigh, nails digging in almost painfully, lifting you until you can wrap your legs around his hips. The abrupt proximity, the easy manhandling - your blood is turning to lava. A quiet moan slips freely from your lips and you writhe against him.

“I was trying to tell you about my day, but it seems I’m just a piece of meat to you,” he chuckles, leaning down to trail sharp teeth up the side of your neck; you don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until he nips at your jaw and you gasp.

“Sorry,” you sigh, trailing your fingers up his arm, “but you don’t usually come home so - ”

“Big?” He smirks, grinding his hips against yours, giving new context to the word. You whine, squirming in his arms.

He’s so encompassing, so _hot_ \- his skin is scorching at the best of times, but it’s uncomfortably warm now. You’re hyper-aware of every point of contact between you, and the palm at your throat is almost painful in its intense heat.

“Nix, I’m a mess,” you pant, wrapping your hand around his wrist, “take me to bed, please?”

He moves his hand to your chin, tilts it upward, leans down to kiss you. His tongue is slick and scalding, and his pointed teeth scrape across your lips, threatening to break the delicate skin there.

“Well, how could I resist such a pretty request?”

He lets your feet fall back to the floor, but he keeps you tangled in his arms as the two of you stumble down the hallway toward the bedroom, leaving behind scattered articles of clothing like a trail of crumbs.


End file.
